


You are so vivacious in Death

by LitMech (PatrioticFrisbee)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, Modern AU, New Work, Tumblr Fic, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrioticFrisbee/pseuds/LitMech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hades looses his Persephone, and the world takes just a little bit more from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are so vivacious in Death

**Author's Note:**

> FOREWARNING; Charles is found dead. Erik is not happy. Obviously.

It’s something he can’t seem to reign. For all his immeasurable force of will, self control, desire to be subtle. Overlooked. He can’t reign in his laugh.

Even to his own ears it’s eerie. It’s short at first, a bubble of hysteria; a brief chuckle before his mouth obeys and returns to the comfort of the irate flat line. But then another chuckle. And another, longer, louder, more frequent until he’s laughing so loud it hurts his ears. He’s grinning so wide it hurts his face. He can’t see through the tears and pitches forward, rests his hands on his knees, hangs in head while he tumbles apart brick by brick.

It’s really just perfect. Truly. Honestly. _This is absolute_. Why would it be any other way?

He’s sure Raven would be screaming obscene things at him if she had a voice anymore. Somewhere in this mausoleum he called home, she’s probably doing something normal. Like mourning. Or crying. Maybe calling the police.

Somewhere between laughing himself to tears and dropping the grocery bag he’d clung to, he managed to find an angle to look down again. _Oh Charles_ , he thinks. The laughing makes his throat hurt. Makes his nose itch. _Oh Charles, don’t you look smashing._

The body simply stares back up at him. Because really, it’s not Charles. Can’t possibly be. Those big blue eyes are dull as milk. Erik doesn’t feel that niggling, tiny touch of someone else _existing_ , which means Charles is away. The corpse, for all the world it’s brown hair smells like Erik’s own shampoo and for all the world it’s wearing that stupid blue sweater, it’s not Charles.

It’s not Charles.

 _Please don’t be Charles._

Raven returns to find a God brought to his knees. Finds an Immortal cradling a priceless, chipped doll to his chest. It’s porcelain has been cracked, it’s paint has been smeared. It covers the Monster’s hands with cherry red, covers the floor.

It covers his mouth where he’s tasted it, where he’s pressed his lips to the wet paint upon the doll’s perfect own.

She watches a God turn his gaze to the Heavens. She watches the world come to an end.


End file.
